I still remember how that fruit tasted.  Like ash in my mouth.  The cold, hard feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Few could understand the intensity of the shame I felt.  Stripped of any defenses, I was left staring into the face of what I had done.  What I had lost.  And then He came.  God was in the garden, and soon, He would know, He would see what I had become.  And so I hid.  Foolish, isn’t it?  To hide from an all-knowing deity?  I heard His footsteps, and then…His voice.  “Where are you?”  When I first heard that, anger coursed through me.  Where were you, God?  Where were you while I struggled to know what was right?  Where were you when I was faltering?  Again, He spoke.  “Where are you?”  The tenderness in His voice stunned me… and wiped away my resentment.  He knew where I was and what I had done.  And yet He did not expose me.  He didn’t jerk me into the light and force me to face Him.  He invited me back to His presence, called me from my hiding place.  He allowed me to come to Him, even in the depth of my sin.  I was so afraid, but I knew that I must answer.  What else was there to do?


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